Yesterday God interrupted my life. Again. His interruptions are always sovereign, always loving, always good; not always--pleasant. Unlike some interruptions, yesterday's involved a broken waterpipe and a flooded basement. Despite the damage and loss, we experienced an unreal sense of contentment and peace.
There was no worry or anxiety, no impatience, no unkind word. It was a work of the Lord. There was a job to do. Its cause was irrelevant at the time. What a heart quenching experience to work dilligently alongside one another simply doing what needed to be done. David ripped out the ruined drywall while I prepped the trail we would make up the stairs, through the living room, kitchen, and laundry room. While he cut and bagged wet carpet and matting, I manuevered the truck for easier loading.
As we surveyed the empty, open room at the end of our haul, we congratulated each other on a job well done. True, by the end of the day I was a little testy under the weight of all that needed to be done and had been put on hold. But it was a blessed day.
My take-away? What thoughts and attitudes do I need to change to experience the same kind of peace and joy in the other interruptions of life? What made today different? Perhaps it was simply the acknowledgement that God knew. God knew the demands on my life. God knew the outcome of just such an interruption. God knew the blessings of working side by side and making plans for a new, improved basement.
Even now, God knows the demands on your life. He knows the outcome of each interruption that comes your way. He knows the blessings that lie in store. He knows how today's interruption will redirect your life to a new, improved relationship with Himself.
How has God used today's interruptions in your life?
"The mind of man plans his way,But the LORD directs his steps." Proverbs 16:9
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
The Stable of My Heart
As I listened to the radio yesterday, I was struck by the thought that God’s place of dwelling, of alighting, has not changed since Jesus came to the stable. He chooses to live in my heart—what a humble, loving Savior! To choose to dwell in a place of stinky selfishness, rough-hewn (mortal) structure, surrounded by the limits and busyness and fallibility of humankind. But He stays here. He’s at work here. He is glorified here. In the stable of my heart.
God, forgive me for trying to “fix it up” when all I should be doing is kneeling at your feet. To have Your presence is glory. Anything I might add would simply distract from and desecrate the “being” of Your presence. Help me to rest. To worship. To be still and know that You are God.
For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus. (Philippians 1:6)
God, forgive me for trying to “fix it up” when all I should be doing is kneeling at your feet. To have Your presence is glory. Anything I might add would simply distract from and desecrate the “being” of Your presence. Help me to rest. To worship. To be still and know that You are God.
For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus. (Philippians 1:6)
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Parade of Homes
Do you enjoy glimpses of people in their homes lit by evening light? I do. Home decor and layouts fascinate me. There is something comforting and intriguing about seeing others move and work in an environment so much the same as--but different than--my own. A private confession: I love our home.
As a SAHM, I spend a lot of time here. We used to move often. To make resale easier, every room was painted the same color. All the carpet was the same. We were ready to sell at a moment's notice. Until we moved twelve years ago. Now we hope to stay. Not too long ago my husband stood in the dining room, looking at the rooms on either side of him, and had an epiphany. "Hey," he called, "have you ever noticed that none of our rooms look the same?" "Yes, Dear," I answered, "I planned it that way."
Of the time I spend at home, some of it is spent cleaning, dusting, decorating, and doing basic home-maintenance. Most of the time, however, I am simply doing other tasks and enjoying my surroundings because they are comfortable, they are mine and, honestly, because I delight in them. They fit my taste.
Perhaps abiding in Christ is much the same. To abide in Christ and His commands is to study them, know them. Then to arrange them in my life where they belong; to polish and straighten them. But most of the time, I simply live out the tasks of life, enjoying the blessings and the comfort of His commands. They have become the structure within which I move. They are chairs in which I rest. There is a kitchen from which I serve and meet the needs of others. In the living room I relax or spend time with others, getting to know them and sharing from the abundance God has given me.
If, however, I were to view the teachings of Christ as harsh, rustic, and rigid, I don't think I would enjoy my domicile at all. My life with Christ would be sparsely furnished. I might simply have a one-room soddie with a stiff, uncomfortable chair and faded linens. As I sat in my chair, my back would be ramrod straight, my feet planted firmly on the floor. Yet, when I would visit the homes of others, they might tell me of the authentic one-of-kind memento they recently acquired in their walk with Christ. I would be jealous. Angry. How could they have such beautiful objet d'art while my life was one of barrenness and self-pity?
May I suggest that the God of both homes is the same? The teachings of Christ are the same. “For this is the love of God, that we keep His commandments; and His commandments are not burdensome.” (1 John 5:3).
It is my perception of and response to God that makes the difference. It is the moving of His Spirit that brings life and freedom. When I submit to His Spirit, and take God at His Word, I find that He is loving...good...kind...gentle... patient...lavishing good things, beautiful things, on His children. Perhaps you, too, have found that the artifacts in an exquisitely decorated home are often reminders of great pain and loss. The stained glass window may represent the provision and sufficiency of God after the loss of a child. The dried flowers in the hand-blown vase may be a reminder of a gift given at a time of financial hardship.
The difference? The one who lives with a good God, who submits to His will and way, relying on Him, finds a beauty, solace, and comfort that can be found no where else. The one who views God and His commands as burdensome and weighty captures only the fleeting treasures the world has to offer while her heart stores up criticism, resentment, bitterness. Life is hard. Life lacks comfort. Life lacks refinement and grace.
Today, where am I living? What does my abode look like? Am I using it and enjoying it in a way that honors and pleases God? Am I sharing it with others--even sending them out the door with gifts and reminders of the grace of God? Am I abiding in the teachings of Christ? (2 John 9).
As a SAHM, I spend a lot of time here. We used to move often. To make resale easier, every room was painted the same color. All the carpet was the same. We were ready to sell at a moment's notice. Until we moved twelve years ago. Now we hope to stay. Not too long ago my husband stood in the dining room, looking at the rooms on either side of him, and had an epiphany. "Hey," he called, "have you ever noticed that none of our rooms look the same?" "Yes, Dear," I answered, "I planned it that way."
Of the time I spend at home, some of it is spent cleaning, dusting, decorating, and doing basic home-maintenance. Most of the time, however, I am simply doing other tasks and enjoying my surroundings because they are comfortable, they are mine and, honestly, because I delight in them. They fit my taste.
Perhaps abiding in Christ is much the same. To abide in Christ and His commands is to study them, know them. Then to arrange them in my life where they belong; to polish and straighten them. But most of the time, I simply live out the tasks of life, enjoying the blessings and the comfort of His commands. They have become the structure within which I move. They are chairs in which I rest. There is a kitchen from which I serve and meet the needs of others. In the living room I relax or spend time with others, getting to know them and sharing from the abundance God has given me.
If, however, I were to view the teachings of Christ as harsh, rustic, and rigid, I don't think I would enjoy my domicile at all. My life with Christ would be sparsely furnished. I might simply have a one-room soddie with a stiff, uncomfortable chair and faded linens. As I sat in my chair, my back would be ramrod straight, my feet planted firmly on the floor. Yet, when I would visit the homes of others, they might tell me of the authentic one-of-kind memento they recently acquired in their walk with Christ. I would be jealous. Angry. How could they have such beautiful objet d'art while my life was one of barrenness and self-pity?
May I suggest that the God of both homes is the same? The teachings of Christ are the same. “For this is the love of God, that we keep His commandments; and His commandments are not burdensome.” (1 John 5:3).
It is my perception of and response to God that makes the difference. It is the moving of His Spirit that brings life and freedom. When I submit to His Spirit, and take God at His Word, I find that He is loving...good...kind...gentle... patient...lavishing good things, beautiful things, on His children. Perhaps you, too, have found that the artifacts in an exquisitely decorated home are often reminders of great pain and loss. The stained glass window may represent the provision and sufficiency of God after the loss of a child. The dried flowers in the hand-blown vase may be a reminder of a gift given at a time of financial hardship.
The difference? The one who lives with a good God, who submits to His will and way, relying on Him, finds a beauty, solace, and comfort that can be found no where else. The one who views God and His commands as burdensome and weighty captures only the fleeting treasures the world has to offer while her heart stores up criticism, resentment, bitterness. Life is hard. Life lacks comfort. Life lacks refinement and grace.
Today, where am I living? What does my abode look like? Am I using it and enjoying it in a way that honors and pleases God? Am I sharing it with others--even sending them out the door with gifts and reminders of the grace of God? Am I abiding in the teachings of Christ? (2 John 9).
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